The Good Fight

When I found out I was pregnant, I knew I would never be the same. My lifestyle, decisions and agenda were permanently altered, and I knew my body would change as well. But little did I realize that as my love for my baby girl has grown, so has my ass...

This morning, I was getting ready to go help out my mom at her law office for the day. She told me I could dress casual and wear jeans, but I still wanted to look decent. So after I did my hair, it was time to find an outfit. For months, I've been wearing a pair of jeans that still magically fit despite my expanded waistline. Unfortunately, there's a hole in the thigh and the bottom seams are completely shredded- definitely not office-appropriate.

I dug through my drawer of jeans looking for some classy dark-washed denim. I grabbed a pair of old favorites. They slid over my feet, ankles, knees and lower thighs before coming to a screeching halt. 'Fair enough,' I thought. After the exact same thing happened with another pair, I hobbled into my mom's room, butt hanging out of my pants, and said something to the effect of, "Mom! My ass is too big for my all my pants..."

To understand the significance of this story, you have to realize that I didn't used to even really have a butt. I had bony little hip bones that jutted out from my narrow figure and wore only low-rise pants. Those same pants are now the enemy.

Two more pairs of jeans refused to yield to my new figure. The size 0 labels on every single one seemed to be mocking me as if to say, "Get over it, mama! You'll never squeeze in here again!" Finally, one last attempt barely slid over my backside. I rigged the button to "close" with a hair elastic and slid on my belly band for extra support. A long maternity tank top covered the mess. All day I dreaded my frequent trips to the bathroom because I was strapped into that outfit tighter than a tourniquet. Urged by my mother to give up the good fight, I cried, "I'm not ready!"

A lot of people are still telling me that I don't look as far along as I am. This afternoon, a very kind lady said to me, "It's all in your belly," to which I snapped and replied, "I wish, but trust me, it's not! I couldn't even fit in my pants this morning." Hopefully she understood that it was the hormones talking...

So here I sit after a day's work in the office, clad in a pair of life-saving maternity sweatpants that completely cover my swollen thighs, widened hips and newfound butt. Despite the inconvenience, I think I like this new body. Mom says I'll eventually go back to normal, but I still can't help but wonder if my low-rise days are over. I'll have so many important things to concern me as a new mother; the last thing I need to worry about it whether or not my buttcrack is fully concealed.

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Update (approx. 4 hours after original post):
For weeks I've been whining because so many people say I don't look as pregnant as I really am. Well, now it's time for me to shut my big mouth and take compliments where I can get them. I just came home from the grocery store, and as I was leaving, a friendly store employee who didn't look a day over 17 struck up a brief conversation with me.
"When are you due?"
"July 13."
"Wow, you've still got a while! You look like you're about to go really soon."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I would have guessed you've got about three weeks left."

My very first thought was, 'Ok, fella, you're adorable with your little faux-hawk and all, but tell me, how many kids have you had?!?!' Instead, I said, "Well, I wish. I'm very ready to have her. Have a good night!"

No one ever says, "You're 32 weeks? That's funny, because you look like you're exactly 32 weeks!" I thought I was sick of hearing that I look smaller, but now I'll take a compliment wherever I can get one. Soon enough, I will only have three weeks left. I'm sure by then, someone will say, "Wow! Are you having twins!"